


Fight

by ncruuk



Category: Janet King (TV)
Genre: But not without hope!, F/F, angsty, season 3 postscript
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 01:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11499219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncruuk/pseuds/ncruuk
Summary: It's a few days after the bust that ended up fizzling out rather than busting the betting ring and Tony's just begun to understand quite how much was broken despite the case falling apart.So he went shopping and bought steak, ice and a bottle of whiskey, just in case this really was the last resort after all....





	Fight

**Author's Note:**

> A quick one-shot written the morning after the s3 final episode aired (give or take a time zone or two).
> 
> I'd like to think this is something we'd have seen if there was an episode 9 or if episode 8 had been ten minutes longer....

He wasn’t sure if he was angrier with her for creating the ambiguity or himself for falling for it.  Either way, he was angry...and impressed: impressed that one so brilliant and talented and observant could be so blind and stupid.

  
Ringing the doorbell wasn’t enough, so he knocked on the door as well.  His impatience meant he also wanted to call out, but to do that would forewarn her and he couldn’t risk her having even that second or two of warning to prepare.  He was on shaky ground - his arguments were theoretical rather than founded in precedent, and that was assuming he even got a hearing:  despite their history he was almost certainly over the line....then again, maybe that was what the situation required.

  
Shifting the Coles bag from his right hand to his left, he waited, a strange mixture of coiled fury and compassion - he could understand, he’d always understood her more than most but now, after everything that had happened… his father had brought him up not to use his fists on a woman, his mother had taught him only to use his fists as a last resort.

  
He still wasn’t sure if he’d arrived at the last resort but had run out of time to wonder - the door was opening…

  
“Tony! Um, hi…”  She held it open a bit more, clearly not expecting or particularly wanting a visitor but unable to shut him out completely.

  
“What the FUCK are you doing Janet?”

  
Striding into the house, Tony headed for the kitchen island, dumping the Coles bag on the counter before unpacking it.

  
“I…”  Confused by his anger, irritated by his intrusion and intrigued by his shopping, Janet shut the front door and came over to see what his next move was.  If he wasn’t so cross he’d have laughed - he’d taught her that, Prosecutorial 101 he’d called it, the Crownie’s secret weapon, so often forgotten about in the heat of Cross-Examination.  For all the preparation and careful planning, neat set up and questioning, sometimes the most effective question was in fact no question at all - let them be, he’d said, let the defendant or the witness have a moment’s silence...wait to see what they do with it.  

  
“She’s leaving.”

  
“She’s already left.”

  
For a moment he was confused - why was she talking like they’d already lost?  

  
And then it hit him: he’d been talking about Inspector Grieves leaving the NCC and returning to Canberra, her absence creating all manner of grief for him as he worried how to keep the Feds involved without the brilliant cop... but Janet hadn’t.  For once it was him worrying about work above all else and Janet...Janet was finally not thinking about work.

  
“When?”  He was still angry with her, angry for getting it all so wrong, for not learning, for not doing better at the stuff that really mattered but his rage was gone, replaced instead with a compassion and concern. He’d had it from the very first time he’d met her, an instinctive response to the fragility he saw her drive and determination tried to protect and shield.

  
“Last week, the day…”  She gestured limply in the space in front of her, a vague shape ghosted in the air a mimed shorthand for ‘everything’ that ended up being the fizz and whimper that their New Year’s Eve Harbour fireworks display should have been.  “...well, not the day, the night before really...but that morning, at the office…”  Janet tilted her head in the direction of the small bunch of keys sitting on the countertop, at first overlooked as it was such an expected thing to see in amongst the organised chaos of this familiar kitchen.   But now he saw them he couldn’t see anything else - they were just sat there, surrounded by space, a component of the King landscape but separate, isolated and apart.  “...she gave me her keys and…”    Unable to find her voice, it didn’t matter that she couldn’t find the words to explain - her silent tears said all that he needed to hear.

  
“Oh Janet….”  

  
“Her stuff’s still upstairs…”

  
Acting on instinct he opened his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around her shaking shoulders when she collapsed against him, her tears no longer silent as she finally crumbled, the fragility few ever saw fully revealed, no longer shielded from the world by near-limitless drive and determination.

  
Eventually the tears slowed, replaced by sniffs and hiccups and finally, because this was Janet, there came the question.

  
“Uh, Tony?”

  
“Yes?”

  
“I understand the whiskey but ice and steak?”  It was clear from her skepticism that trying to pretend he’d been planning a barbeque was out of the question so settled for the truth.

  
“To help with the swelling after you hit me.”

  
“Me?”  Janet pulled back from him, the absurdity of the suggestion amusing her so much she was starting to grin through her few remaining tears.  “Hit you?”

  
“I’d have hit you first, it would have been provocation,” he teased, relieved to see her grin increase slightly.  “But with mitigating circumstances…”

  
“Naturally…” The droll quip was delivered instinctively, the rhythm of their friendship reestablishing itself quickly and without conscious effort on Janet’s part, inadvertently creating the opportunity Tony knew he’d only get once.  “...diminished responsibility?”

  
“Yours or mine?”  His question stumped her briefly, giving him his chance.  “Because the way I see it, you’re an idiot.”  He’d expected an argument but instead her shoulders slumped further in defeat.  “She loves you Janet…”  Suddenly it all made sense, well, not all, but the horribly awkward conversation he’d had with Bianca that had driven him over here in the first place.  “...she loves you more than anything else...more than truth and justice and putting the bad guys away…”

  
“So do I…”

  
“I know that Janet…”  He did, but then he’d known her for a long time, known her through the highs and lows of her relationship with Ash, a relationship that would no doubt forever be remembered by Janet with a rose tinted hue but that wasn’t to say that was how he remembered it.  No relationship was perfect and he’d no doubt whatsoever that Janet’s love for Ash was as much and equal to her love for Bianca.  But love on its own hadn’t stopped the cracks and wobbles then...and it might not be enough now but at least with Bianca Janet still had an opportunity to try.  “...does she?”

  
“What?  Of course she does, I’ve told her…”

  
“Told her that you love her, but have you shown her?”  In spite of the seriousness of the conversation and the rawness of her emotions, Janet was still Janet and that bloody eyebrow twitch of hers still flustered him.  “Yes, well, not that.  Well, not just that…”  He’d signed off the expenses claim for that weekend in Melbourne without looking at it, trusting them both to keep it within the bounds of suitability for record-keeping purposes.  “...have you shown her that she means more to you than anything else apart from Liam and Emma?”

  
“She knows how much they mean to me…”  That had been one of the first things that she’d noticed actually, how much Bianca had just accepted that the twins would always be a part of anything they had, how Bianca became ‘Bi-Bi’ and, Emma’s occasional frostiness aside, they just clicked together like...like a family.

  
“That’s not what I asked.”

  
“She left...gone...I’ve lost her.”

  
“So?  What’s that got to do with anything now?”  He knew it wasn’t entirely simple but it only needed to be that simple until she started to fight again. After that it could get as complicated as it needed to but at least Janet would be in the thick of it, having a go.

  
“It’s done…”  Janet’s eyes were focussed on the bunch of keys, the symbol of her defeat and apparent confirmation of her condemnation and isolation.  “There is no ‘now’.”

  
“You need to talk to her Janet.”

  
“I… I don’t know what to say… what can I say to her now?  What can I do to make her believe...I can’t do ‘this’...”  Another vague hand gesture saved her from having to find the words.  “...on my own.  Not again...not this time…”  That was when Tony realised what ‘this’ was - ‘this’ was the pain of losing what actually mattered, the pain and agony of the loss of the woman that Janet did indeed love more than Lady Justice…’this’ was losing Ash and in turn losing herself, something she’d only survived with Bianca’s quiet presence and, ultimately, love.  “...I only managed last time because of her…”

  
“That’s what you need to tell her Janet…”  His first instinct was to give her another hug but he changed his mind, a little nudge from somewhere telling him she needed to feel this pain, this rawness of the open wound on top of newly reopened wound, needed to feel it on her own for just a moment longer.  So he went with his second instinct and reached for the whiskey he’d brought, pottering about her kitchen finding the glasses and pouring the measures.

  
“Here…” he said finally, handing her the very small drink he’d poured for her, the pinned up sheet on the wall telling him the twins were at her mother’s for the weekend and her fridge and cupboards telling him she’d barely eaten lately.  “...drink up then I’m taking you for food.”

  
“I’m not hungry.”

  
“Which is why I’m dragging you round Coles until you are.  Drink!”  His grin took the sting out of his words.  “And then you’ve an appeal to win.”

  
“An appeal?  What case?  And what are the grounds for leave to appeal?”

  
“King vs Grieves, and the grounds?”  He downed the rest of his slightly larger whiskey, realising the option of being punched by her was still on the table.  “King’s an idiot, but she’s a loveable idiot.”

  
“Sounds a bit shaky…” In spite of everything she was smiling slightly, feeling a tiny bubble of something deep within her that might possibly be hope.  “Hard to win from that angle.”

  
“Better give it your best shot then, hadn’t you?”  He put down his now empty glass and put her almost empty but still barely touched glass down next to it before pulling her into a tight hug.  “Can’t think of a more important case to win, can you?”

  
There was a long moment when she just clung to him, her face feeling wet through his still damp shirt and against his neck before finally, he felt her take some deep breaths and knew she’d made her decision, whatever it may be.

  
“No, I can’t.”  She lifted her head up from his shoulder and looked him in the eye, her eyes wet but focussed and clear.  “I love her too much.”

  
“You don’t need to tell me that.”

  
“I know…”  She kissed him on the cheek, amused when he blushed slightly.  “...but I do need to tell Bianca…”

  
There was an energy in her that he hadn’t seen for days, that had been missing for large chunks of time over the last fifteen years or so but had been around most often ever since she’d finally laid Ash’s ghost to rest, something he knew now had been entirely thanks to Bianca, and in more ways than one.

  
“She’s at her place.”  He swiftly put the whiskey, ice and steak back in the Coles bag and gave it to her.  “Here, I think you might still need this.”  He put his hands in his pockets, making it clear that he wasn’t going to go with her.  “I’ll lock up.”  As an afterthought he reached out and snagged the set of keys on the counter.  “Check these still work for you.”

  
He put them in his pocket, aware she was watching his every move.

  
“I’ll probably forget I have them, so you’ll have to remember to ask for them back at some point...when the time is right.”

  
“When the time is right…” agreed Janet slowly, understanding what he was telling her - she wasn’t going to get Bianca back right away, or shift back to how they were before, she hadn’t got that right.  Not yet.  “...thanks for locking up…” Resolute, with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, Janet picked up her car key and bag, determined to go now before she lost her nerve again.  “...I’m…”  Another vague gesture, this time accompanied with a faint blush as she realised she was actually discussing her love life with her friend and boss.

  
“...going to ask a girl out?”

  
“Not a girl, _the_ girl.”  And, with a final kiss to his cheek, Janet headed for the car, doubling back at the last second to pick up his Coles bag.

  
It was time for her to show the woman she loved that she did in fact come first…

  
It was time for Janet King to fight for something more important than Justice.

  
It was time for Janet to fight for herself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, what did you think?


End file.
